


The Space Between The Stars

by Tamari



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Cute, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Gossip, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cooper/Trebond family, through time and tears and travels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Space Between The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Summer Challenge at the Tamora Pierce Experiment: Writing Challenges.  
> This fic focuses on the Cooper/Trebond family (Beka to Alinna) and will jump forward and backward in time and characters.  
> It starts with Rispah, and the theme 'freedom'.

Rispah grew up dreaming.

Not like the other girls, of handsome princes (Prince Roger and later, Jonathan) or bags of money, but of choices, of decisions, of her own path.

Rispah was broken of those dreams quickly.

It was natural, healthy, normal even, for a girl like her. Girls from the Cesspool became flower sellers, became women of the night. Rispah accepted this.

Goddess knew she accepted it.

She had been working for a few years when her cousin showed up, young but already hardened with a sharp, sarcastic edge and plenty of knives. She watched and worried, reassuring herself that there was still time, he could still be saved, there was still time…

There was no time.

He got the crown at sixteen. Rispah could not stop shaking her head, but a sad smile spread across her face. He may have been stuck in the Lower City, but he'd clawed his way to the top. He had the power. He had choices.

He had freedom, and she didn't.

George approached her within the year. She was working the tables at the Court, weary, worthless, a fake smile plastered on her red red lips.

"Rispah," he said. She looked up from scrubbing, eyes tired, and wiped her curls out of her face.

"Yes, Majesty?" she said.

"Ye don't need to call me that, Rispah," he said. "I 'ave an offer for ye - from tradition, yeh see, there's a Queen of the Rogue. I think ye'd be a grand one."

She took a deep breath.

"I'd be 'onored," she said.

She met Coram years later.

She grew a new type of freedom, a new type of dream - something just for her.

There was time left.


	2. Too Hot To Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one has a family like hers. A conversation upon Alinna's homecoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A GLO piece with prompt "he's famous, kind of", double challenged with Kris11's Summer Challenge, chapter 2 - forward in time and "scorching".

When she goes home, they immediately ask how she is liking the desert.

"It's hot," she says with a nod. "Very hot."

Rose and Elenna roll their eyes but Thomsen grins. "And how are you liking the boys out there - or should I say men?"

She laughs. "They're quite nice."

"Worth the heat?" Thomsen says.

"Definitely."

Rose and Elenna exchange glances, suddenly interested.

Rose leans in, uncrossing her legs and tucking them underneath her in her chair. "Do tell, sister dear. Do you have a _favorite_ young man?"

"Oh, yes," Alinna sighs. Thomsen looks uncomfortable, the conversation having progressed past his lighthearted teasing and into serious discussion about his sister's love life.

Elenna gestures for her to continue. When Alinna starts talking, it's hard for her to stop. Elenna takes full advantage of this whenever possible.

Alinna smiles dreamily. "Well, he's famous, kind of. Handsomer than the desert is hot, funny, so educated, and great with a sword."

"More than a sword, I'll bet," Rose says wickedly.

"Rose!" Thomsen buries his face in his hands. Alinna blushes but doesn't deny anything.

"Wait, wait - he's _kind of_ famous? How can you be kind of famous?" Elenna says.

Alinna stretches and avoids her siblings' eyes. "When he's with me - when he's with me, he's just… him, so I don't think of him as famous. But with other people, he has responsibilities, you know, so it's not as easy to forget."

"Just tell us who he is already!" Thomsen lifts his head up and shakes it at Alinna. "You're doing this suspense on purpose."

Elenna snorts. "You're such a gossip."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am-"

"Prince Liam!"

Elenna and Thomsen freeze, mouths still open, and slowly turn to gape at a rapidly reddening Alinna. Rose falls off her chair, erupting in giggles.

"That's just unfair," Alinna says and tries to cover her heating cheeks. "You all know I get flustered when there's yelling."

Rose picks herself off the floor. "I bet Liam doesn't mind. He probably likes you flustered, the better to-"

"Rose!" Thomsen says.

"Anyway, Alinna, it's always good to hear about your travels!" Elenna says, recovering her good cheer. "And we'll always be here to cool you down if you get too… hot." Elenna winks and adds in a loud whisper, "I would be scorching if I was off with shirtless, attractive princes."

"Rose!" Thomsen yells.

"What? That wasn't me," Rose protests.

"Well- maybe so, but you're _corrupting_ her." Thomsen tries to slap the mantel above the fireplace for emphasis, but hits the sharp edge instead and swears.

"Please, Thomsen, if anyone's corrupted Elenna it's Domitan of Masbolle."

"DOM DID WHA-"

"I think dinner's ready!" Alinna interrupts, earning an extremely grateful look from Elenna.

Thomsen casts one last glare at the three girls before marching off to the kitchen. Alinna faintly hears him yell "Da, the Own haven't been by here recently, have they? HAVE THEY?"

Alinna takes one look at Elenna's stricken face and collapses in laughter, dragging Rose down with her to the floor.

"Not so funny when it's you, is it?" Alinna manages to say. She reaches for the floor but grabs Rose's face instead. Rose promptly bites her.

"Ow!" Alinna shrieks. Elenna snorts before she, too, is pulled down by the hem of her skirts.

Whatever else, Alinna thinks wryly as she spits out a mouthful of auburn curls, she'll always have her family.

The thought isn't completely reassuring.


	3. Leaving Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thayine, leaving home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 'Time Travel' challenge at TPE: Writing Challenges. Part 3, forward and 'travel'. Set about a year after Chapter 2.

"D'you have to go?" Buran says tearfully, tugging at her travelling skirts. "Elenna won't play knights with me like you."

Thayine pulls out her embroidered handkerchief and crouches down in the hay to wipe the tears off her brother's dusty face. "Oh, Buran, I'll be home before you know it. And I'm sure she'll play with you at least a little. You can practice curtseys together!"

Buran makes a disgusted face and she smiles tenderly. He abruptly throws his little arms around her.

"Miss you, Thay."

Thayine scoops him up and rises from her crouch, spinning around and surprising him into giggles.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock," she says and swings his legs side to side in time with the words. "What's the hour? Buran-o-clock!" At the last word, she throws the laughing Buran up in the air and catches him again.

"Promise to write me letters?" he asks when she puts him down again. "Ma said she'd read me some if you sent them."

"I promise, Buran. And if I see Jonthair I'll remind him to come see you all, all right?" she says.

"And Daran," he says.

"And Daran," Thayine repeats. "I've got to get going, now." She peeks out the stall door to see a hostler patiently waiting with her horse. She thanks him, takes the reins, and turns back to Buran.

"You'll be home soon, right?" Buran says.

"Sure will," she says while checking that all her bags are fastened tightly. "Before you know it."

She leads the horse outside and mounts. Blowing Buran a kiss and waving up at the castle in case anyone's watching out the window, Thayine heads for Corus.


	4. Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rispah doesn’t often come take trips, but when she does, she prefers a simple homecoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the advent calendar at Goldenlake (fiefgoldenlake.proboards.com), prompt #1, "homecoming"  
> Come by and introduce yourself!

She let herself in through the back door, waving away the people who rushed to help her. Old habits died hard, and anyway, Rispah didn’t need anyone waiting on her hand and foot.

She was aware that she probably smelled like horse and dirt from her long ride. This was cemented when one of the servants gave her a skeptical but painfully polite look.

“Milady, would you care for me to draw you a bath?” the woman said.

“No,” Rispah said, “‘s all right. But could you grab my bags?”

The woman didn’t protest. She went outside and Rispah left the kitchen with a sigh of relief, rolling her shoulders back and arching her back until she heard a crack. She was getting old, she thought wryly, but still not too old to climb the many stairs at Trebond.

Two flights later, she pushed open the plain wooden door as softly as she could and crept inside the room. She set her lantern down on the dresser and started to change out of her travelling clothes.

“Hey there, stranger.” A soft voice came from behind her.

She yelped and whirled, but calmed down when she heard Coram’s slow chuckle and saw his grin.

“Coram,” she said, half-scolding, but her wide smile cancelled out her tone.

He opened his arms and she rushed into them, burrowing her face in his solid chest. He smelled nice, as usual, and she was sure she did not but he didn’t say anything.

“Missed you,” she said.

“Missed you too,” Coram said. He ran his hand over her tangled gray-red curls. “How was Jonthair’s knighting?”

“Sad,” she admitted. “Our babies are growing up. He says he missed you, you know, and wishes you could’ve been there.”

Coram sighed and she looked up at him.

“Me too,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re home.”

Rispah finished changing out of her travelling clothes very, very quickly.


	5. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lerant and Thayine will have many Midwinters, but this is the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Goldenlake's Advent Calendar, day #2, festivities.

Lerant’s white knuckles hold too tight on the glass. His posture is very stiff and he does not look at anyone, only at the ground. He is no mood for festivities. Not tonight.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns.

It’s a young woman, not one he knows, and definitely not one of the Own. His grip on the glass does not loosen, but he smiles tightly.

“May I help you?” he says.

“Hi!” the girl chirps. “You’re in the King’s Own, aren’t you?” She smiles at him and he’s almost blinded by the brightness in it.

He looks down at his uniform, and back up at the girl. “Yes,” he drawls. “Do you need something?”

But she’s undeterred by his rather rude tone. “Do you know Thomsen of Trebond?” she says, still in that very eager, happy voice.

Thomsen of Trebond. He’s in Lerant’s company, but they don’t associate very often, for obvious reasons. He’s quite popular with the ladies, though, unlike Lerant.

Lerant raises an eyebrow at the girl and sneers slightly. “Yes,” he says again. “Why? D’you want me to pass on love notes of some sort?”

The girl looks shocked. “What? No! Thomsen’s my brother!”

Oh.

“Oh,” he says. “Sorry, then.”

“It’s all right,” she says, recovering her good cheer. “How’s your Midwinter been so far?”

“How do you think?” he asks. He sweeps an arm around pointedly at the bustling party around them. It’s a Corus party, a court party, complete with fake smiles and finery and couples hanging off each other.

She shrugs, but her face falls a bit again and she doesn’t look all that happy. “What’s your name?”

“Lerant,” he says, because while there’s not really a reason to tell her, there’s not a reason to lie either. “Yours?”

“Thayine,” she says. “I’m Thayine.”

He nods slowly and looks around again. Nobody’s staring at the two, or, if they are, they’re being subtle about it.

“Nice to meet you, Thayine,” he says. He does have some manners, no matter what cruel rumors have been circulated by his fellow servicemen and soldiers.

“You too!” She’s chirping again. He gets the feeling of not-quite sincerity -- of genuine niceness that’s been turned into something overbearing by an outside factor. He suspects the convent, but he doesn’t know this girl and really, it’s not his place to judge.

There’s a pause, but neither of them excuses themselves and neither of them leaves. They just stare at each other.

“Look,” she says bluntly, in a stark contrast to her previous manner. “I’m having a miserable time here. Why don’t we do something, I don’t know, fun? Exciting?”

“Like what?” He raises his eyebrows again.

There’s another pause, and she’s looking at him, and obviously thinking hard about something. He waits, not too gracefully.

“Like _this_ ,” she says, and then there’s something very warm in his arms and very soft on his mouth.

He stands there for a moment, bewildered, and by the time he figures out what’s going on and also where his head went, she’s pulled back.

“Let’s dance,” she says, and he agrees.

They waltz around the room. When the music changes, they don’t stop dancing, and bump into women in full dresses and men in their finest tunics, and all the while Thayine doesn’t stop giggling and looking up at him with happy brown eyes.

“The ball isn’t quite as boring now, huh?” he says.

“No,” she beams. “Happy Midwinter, Lerant.”


	6. Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baroness Rispah makes friends at the Midwinter Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for the Advent Calendar, #3, "unlikely companions".

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

Rispah stops searching the room for the familiar figure of Coram to look over at the newcomer.

“I’m Rispah... Baroness Rispah of Trebond.”

It still sounds strange to her tongue, just as strange as meeting all these nobles, but she shakes it off to smile at the rake-thin man with the brown hair. Something in his face is kind, if stern.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he says, and his voice is sincere. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She stares.

“Duke Gareth of Naxen,” he says for an explanation. “Is this your first Midwinter at court?”

“Yes,” she says, a bit dazedly because this is a _Duke_ , and of Naxen no less, and she’s just Rispah. “It’s so beautiful.”

He smiles. “I’ll tell my daughter-in-law you said so.”

“Huh?” she says. Then she corrects herself. “I mean, pardon?”

The Duke laughs. “My daughter-in-law, Cythera. She’s been organizing the decorating of the palace for a few years now. Every year, someone tells her that she doesn’t have to, but she just loves Midwinter and all the decorations.”

“Oh,” Rispah says. Why does that name sound familiar to her? She frowns in thought. “Cythera?”

“You might know her,” the Duke says. “She and Gary socialize quite often.”

Rispah thinks. She doesn’t know a _noble_ Cythera... but wasn’t there a young, pretty blonde who came down to the Dove once? That girl was with a Gary.

She almost smacks her hand into her forehead. Of course that would be the girl. She’s just starting to put together all the things she remembers from years ago, like Johnny’s true identity. She can’t ask Coram about most of it, because he just laughs and shakes his head.

“Right,” Rispah says to Duke Gareth. “I believe I do. She’s a very sweet girl. So is your son. Not a sweet _girl_ , I mean, but--”

The dignified older man snorts with laughter.

“With that attitude,” Duke Gareth says, “you will enjoy court, and noble life, very much. Or, at the least, you’ll find it entertaining.”

Rispah spies Coram across the room, chatting with handsome Johnny -- the _king_ , she corrects herself -- and big, jovial Raoul. Coram waves, and she smiles back widely.

“I hope so,” she says. “I hope so.”


End file.
